Lag B'Omer was approaching and the kids knew it.
Once upon a time you could look through our dining room window and
see hundreds of kids jumping rope or playing at the park opposite.
But for the last few weeks the park has been nearly empty. Instead,
while looking out our window you would see groups of kids schlepping
planks of wood, broken crates and (yes, dare I say it) dried out tree
trunks. The five-shekel refundable deposit for the shopping carts
at the local supermarkets was obviously a small price to pay as it
seemed to be the choice mode of transport. Why lug a tree up a hill
when you can stick it in a bung-wheeled shopping cart and push it
home. A short cruise around the neighbourhood revealed sophisticated
security systems around piles of wood - ropes, strings and ribbons
adorned parking lots - complete with warning notes that "This
wood belongs to Yankel and Moish - don't touch!" Our neigbours
must have worked really hard because they amassed enough wood to rebuild
the Twin Towers. Don't get me wrong, my kids were no shrinking violets.
They scrounged and searched and crawled into all sorts of places for
that elusive piece of wood. "AHA!" Shimi shouted with delight
as he quickly shoved an A4 sized torn piece of cardboard under his
arm, knowing that this was going to be a great Lag B'Omer. The parents
were not spared this wooden frenzy. Shimi made me promise to take
him around the neighbourhood to search for wood. How much wood could
there be? The building are all made from concrete and stone with barely
a wooden object to be seen for miles. Our neighbours and thier neighbours
and their neighbours' neighbours seemed to have found it all already.
Cunningly, Shimi requested that we head for a seldom used section
of a nearby park and his eagle eyes soon spied a treasure. Hidden
far underneath some bushes was a broken pallette. We loaded up and
hiked back home. Shimi was pleased to have found wood and I was pleased
that it didn't take so long, although I felt a bit rediculous carrying
planks of broken pallette with me down Revivim, the major walkway
near our home.
Shabbos arrived and Lag B'Omer was to be that night. Leah and I reminisced
about the Lag B'Omers of the past, spent at Rabbi and Rebbetzin Rabi's
around their bonfire-in-a-barrel. But I tell you what, it has never
been easier to get the kids to have a Shabbos Shluf for had they refused,
they would miss the bonfires that night. As I was about to leave the
shule after Maariv, my neighbour turns to me with a gleam in his eyes
and whispers, "Fire at 9pm". I had half an hour to get home,
make Havdollah, dress down, clean up and dredge up the old BBQ from
deep within our storage room in the basement. I wasted no time in
getting home. And then, all of a sudden, I stopped dead in my tracks.
I realised what a goldmine I had on my hands. I was going to milk
this for all it was worth. "Kids, Havdollah!" I announced
walking briskly into the apartment. Without wasting a moment, the
kids put down their kapla (with which they were making pretend bonfires)
and participated wonderfully in Havdollah. As soon as we finished
singing Eliyahu Hanavi, the kids started running and clapping and
jumping as if something wonderful was about to happen - which it was.
"OK. We had better get this room clean! We only have 15 minutes
until bonfire time!" Boy, all my Lag B'Omers came at once. I
have never seen so much kapla been put away so quickly in my life.
Leah hurriedly whispered to me, "Quick, give Shimi something
to do! He has put away all the toys and needs more instructions before
it wears off!" The house has never been cleaner and the kids
were like angels. Then the clock struck 9 and it was on for young
and old.
Shimi ran downstairs while Zvi preferred to watch the neighbours set
fire to their pile of treasure from the safety of his second floor
window - he kept shouting to them that they should call the fire truck,
just in case. Racheli was wheeling her chair up and down the corridor
shouting something incomprehensible but obviously funny. Leah was
finishing off the dishes in the kitchen and I was dusting off the
Weber. Akiva Meir lay on a blanket on the floor and waved his hands
excitedly (I think he saw a toy hidden beneath the kitchen table).
Soon Zvi disappeared with Racheli down to the car park to view the
spectacle and I remained on our balcony taking care of the more important
part of the festival - the BBQ. It was a serene night. Clear, with
a mild breeze across our balcony. I looked across into the distance
where during the day you can see the green hills. I breathed in some
fresh air and my gaze turned towards the park near our house. There
was something odd about it and I was having trouble putting my finger
on it. The playground was empty, but then that was not unusual for
this time of night. There was something else about it. Then it struck
me like a 2x4 across the brow. I was sure there were more than two
trees there this morning...
The sausages were cooking nicely and I could see a massive bonfire
illuminating a nearby hilltop. The flashing lights of the firetruck
doing the rounds of the community lit up the trees that seemed buried
in the dark. Looking beyond the central park on Nachal Ayalon I could
see another fire burning behind the buildings on Lechish. The smell
of smoke was in the air and it was truly Lag B'Omer.
Once the meat was cooked, I put it aside so that Leah and I could
take a wander down to see our neighbour's bonfire. When we got there
it was still going, but it wasn't the raging inferno it was cracked
up to be. I asked Mr Neighbour what happened to the huge bonfire that
the kids promised. He said, "We didn't have as much wood as we
thought. Some kids from Revivim stole some of our wood. We stole it
from them first and then they stole it back. What Chutzpa!" -
wood wars, how quaint.
Our neighbour said that he was going to take a drive around the area
with the kids to look at the bonfires. I asked him what he intended
to do with the remaining bonfire. He told me that he threw quite a
lot of water around it and on it. The thing was surrounded by about
a meter or more of sand on all sides and the flames were very low.
He decided to leave it to burn itself out. I wasn't going to claim
any responsibility for this so Leah and I gathered up our kids and
schlepped them back upstairs. I re-ignited the coals in the Weber
and reheated the food, which was by now cold. We enjoyed turkey sausages
and beef-burgers in pita. I went to bed and thought nothing of the
bonfire left outside on its lonesome.
I woke up at 5am and got myself ready for shule. It was very warm
and there was a hot wind blowing quite strongly even at that time
of the morning. When I emerged from the shule about an hour later,
I was greeted by gust after gust of hot and sticky winds. When I finally
reached our building I had a quick look at the neighbour's bonfire
and it was completely out. Yerushalayim was not much cooler and when
I returned to Ramat Beit Shemesh after 9pm (I was late home because
Chabbad had blocked off Kikar Shabbat and half of Geulah for a Lag
B'Omer parade - some Chabbadnikim were dressed like clowns. One passer-by
wished them "Purim Sameach" and they replied "Shabbat
Shalom" even though it was Sunday- it was wierd and noisy and
hundreds of kids wore these plastic-bag vests and strange cardboard
caps advertising Chabbad. The lolly-shops, pizzerias and felafel joints
did a roaring trade - but I still don't get the clown thing...hmmm...)
Anyway, as I was saying, even at 9pm it was still hot and sticky like
a real RBS summer's day. In fact, as I sit here typing this letter,
shvitz is forming on my brow - and it is 1am. My only conclusion is
that although it is two days post-facto, I think someone forgot to
switch off his bonfire.